


The Christmas Spirit

by irishlullaby13



Series: Never Doubt I Love [5]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, IchabbieHolidays, Never Doubt I Love Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: In the midst of Ichabod and the children making christmas cookies to leave for "Santa", Abbie returns home with a mysterious request.





	

“Can I use sprinkles to make a Santa in the middle of mine?” Grace asked, looking up at her father. “I think he would enjoy that very much.”

“Certainly, Grace,” Ichabod answered affectionately. 

She was barely 12 and already stood tall enough to reach the top of the counter to decorate the cookie she was preparing for 'Santa Claus'—her mother often sulked that she was already almost as tall as her. Of course, Grace didn't truly believe Santa was real, having believed her school friends more readily than her mother's insistence that Santa was as real as she made him out to be. She and Irving were just keeping up appearance for 'the babies'.

“I want mine to look like a reindeer,” Irving stated smartly. “Because no one wants to eat something that looks like them.” Grace stuck her tongue out at him and he pretended to put his finger in his nose and lunged toward the little lump of dough that would end up being her cookie.

Grace shrieked and backhanded him across the face.

“Dad!” Irving cried. “Grace just—”

“—gave you a very much deserved lesson in cause and effect,” Grace huffed indignantly. 

Irving gave Ichabod big pleading eyes as he delicately dabbed at his busted lip with a paper towel. “Dad...”

“She's not wrong,” Ichabod replied. “Despite it being a ruse, she had every right to defend herself from what appeared to be an imminent attack.”

Irving sulked for a moment then glanced over as John doused his own blob of cookie dough with a mound green sprinkles and pink edible glitter. “What are you doing?”

“Mine is going to be a log,” John stated, rolling his blob around until the glitter was mixed in. “A beautiful, sparkly log.”

The eldest Crane children shared a glance. “What kind of log is _pink_ ,” Grace asked incredulously. She sighed impatiently. “Dad, I understand you and mum have no desire to stifle our creativity but—”

“The kind Santa will poop after eating this cookie,” John piped proudly.

Both Irving and Grace gave a disgusted “eww.” Sophie started laughing hysterically. She made a lewd noise with her mouth on the back of her hand and laughed even harder. Sophie flopped over the counter and laughed until she was breathless.

“That's disgusting,” Grace grumbled.

Ichabod shuddered know that, odds were very favourable that it would be he that consumed the cookie once the children were tucked away in bed on Christmas Eve. He wasn't entirely certain why but, lately, his youngest son had an odd affinity with excrement and the colour pink. “I am certain Santa will realize John just wants to give him a small amount of joy.”

“Precisely,” John huffed with a nod.

Ichabod looked up as the entry door open as his lovely bride walked in, looking exhausted. “Welcome home, Lieutenant,” Ichabod greeted.

Abbie grinned as she walked into the kitchen and deposited her handbag on the table. “What do we have here?” she asked. She gave Ichabod a quick welcoming kiss. 

“We are engaging in the timeless tradition of making cookies for Santa Claus,” Ichabod replied. He puffed his chest with pride. “Since all of the children are now old enough to do so.”

“You act like you haven't been making cookies for Christmas since I was pregnant with Grace,” Abbie teased. “So what are you guys putting on the cookies this year?”

“Santa,” Grace beamed.

“A reindeer,” Irving said.

“A log,” John intoned, making his younger sister giggle again.

Abbie looked perplexed. “I'm confused... what's so funny?”

“I'll explain it later,” Ichabod replied stiffly.

Abbie leaned down and looked Sophie in the eyes. The little girl grinned wickedly, her eyes dancing mischievously. “What about you? What are you making?” Abbie asked.

Sophie put her finger to her lips. “Shh,” she hissed out then giggled cutely.

“Oh, it's a secret huh?” Abbie asked. “Well I guess it'll be a big big secret what Mommy has planned for you guys tonight.”

There was a chorus of “Aw man”s from the vocal children. Sophie poked out her bottom lip and huffed. 

“You guys will just have to wait,” Abbie said, slipping her arm around Ichabod's waist. His arm came around her shoulders and he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “But, as soon as your cookies are in the oven, you need to run up to your rooms and get cleaned up.”

“Are we going to see Santa?” John squealed. “I can't wait to give him my list!”

“No, Santa visitation is tomorrow morning,” Ichabod replied.

The four children shared curious glances, silently asking the other if they knew what their mother had in mind. Even Ichabod was at a loss, not knowing what his lovely bride was scheming. Grace carefully put her dough onto the cookie sheet, as did Irving and John. Sophie, however, put six small dough squares on the sheet and smiled up at them angelically.

“Go get cleaned up,” Ichabod state, picking up the cookie sheet. 

All four children scampered noisily out of the kitchen and up the stairs. “I don't know what she has planned for hers, but I have a feeling Sophie's is going to kick ass,” Abbie commented. She paused then hurried over to the kitchen door. “Sophie, don't get distracted with blowing bubbles with the soap!”

“So what plans are afoot this evening, Lieutenant?” Ichabod asked affectionately.

“You'll see,” Abbie grinned. “It's as much of a surprise for you as it is the kids.”

“Intriguing,” Ichabod hummed, putting the cookies into the oven. He set the timer. “Shall I clean myself up as well?”

“Maybe you should,” Abbie replied. “If the timer goes off, I'll get the cookies out and put them on the cooling racks.”

Ichabod gave her a quick peck on the lips and dashed up the stairs to get cleaned up along with the children. Sophie stepped out of the bathroom with a frown on her face as she shook the empty liquid soap bottle. She held her hand under the little spout then looked up at him then back at the bottle. She then jutted it toward him with an annoyed huff.

When he took it from her Sophie turned her left hand palm down and, using the middle finger of her right hand to make a line from her wrist to past her knuckles. Ichabod blinked at her so she repeated the gesture. “What... what does that mean, Sophie? I do not understand.”

Sophie sighed and squished her face with annoyance. She pointed to the bottle then repeated the gesture. After repeating it two more times she tapped her thumb against her forehead, moved it away then placed her thumb against her forehead again. She pointed at the bottle then made the original gesture again.

“She's trying to tell you the bottle is empty,” Irving said, having been standing there for a few moments observing his sister and father. “She learned it from those books Mum got her. She's actually pretty good at it. We've all been studying them since Auntie Corrina started teaching us a few basics.”

Sophie puffed out her chest with pride and nodded.

_Books_...?

Ichabod's eyes widened as he recalled precisely which books Irving was referring to. It was a stack of books containing sign language that Abbie had gotten over a year ago, when Sophie had used the ASL for 'I love you' after seeing it on a children's program. Sophie had become quite annoyed by Abbie's enthusiasm and had knocked the books off the table, refusing to take part in learning the language.

Sophie was very selective about her books and he had never offered the books to her after her initial rejection. Nor had he seen the children, as a collective, reading the books.

“Aunt Corrina helps us out on yours and Mom's date nights,” Grace added, stepping up being Irving. 

'Aunt Corrina' was Big Ash's sister that had been deafened by a banshee's wail during the fifth tribulation. She would volunteer to babysit the children if Ash and Jenny made plans to go out with himself and Abbie—which was at least one or two Friday evenings a month.

“Then let us replace this empty bottle with a fresh one, shall we, Sophie?” Ichabod asked. 

The youngest Crane child strode purposely into the bathroom, Ichabod behind her. He noted that in front of the opened closet where the spare soap was kept, she had not only set up her little step stool that enabled her to reach the sink to brush her teeth, but she had also turned over the small rubbish bin and placed it atop the stool, and placed Washington's Bible atop the bin.

With a sigh, Ichabod picked up the bible and peered down at his youngest child. “How many times have your mother and I told you that George Washington's bible is not to be used as a step ladder?” Sophie pursed her lips and counted on her fingers before holding up eight fingers. “Well make this the ninth time, Sophie,” he said gently. He handed her the rubbish bin and she returned it to its place next to the toilet. She picked up her little stool and tucked it into the closet where it belonged. “Apple Cinnamon? Peppermint Dreams?”

Sophie wrinkled her nose and shook her head. She pointed to one of the other bottles decorated with a bright beach setting. “Jamaican Breeze?” Ichabod asked and she nodded happily. When he handed it to her, she twisted off the cap and sniffed it with a blissful expression on her face before holding up for him to smell. It smelled like coconuts and salty air.

Sophie twisted the lid back on then scurried over to the sink. After a moment she realized she had already tucked her step stool away and returned to retrieve it.

Ichabod stuck his head out the door. “Why did none of you tell your mother and I you were learning sign language? We would have very much enjoyed learning along with you.”

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” John sighed. “But Sophie ruined it. Grace and m—Grace and I had put together a special Christmas dance routine for you and Mum but now it won't be a surprise. Even Irving and Sophie were in on it. And Sophie was going to do her part in sign language.”

“You're not supposed to tell him about the dance routine, John!” Grace hissed. “ _That_ was the surprise!”

“You kids ready?” Abbie called up the stairs.

“Almost!” the three eldest called back.

Ichabod held up a finger and knelt down to their level. “Your mother still knows nothing of your surprise. I will act sufficiently surprised when the time comes.”

“But it won't be the same...” Grace whinged. “But if that's our only option...”

Irving looked at his older sister. “We could use that time travelling spell and stop Sophie from revealing it to Dad.”

“There will be absolutely no use of time travel in this house,” Ichabod replied.

“Does that mean we can go outside and do the spell then run inside to stop Sophie from telling?” John asked.

“No magic,” Ichabod sighed. “Finish getting cleaned up and go down stairs.”

Ichabod went to the room he shared with his beloved and returned Washington's Bible to the shelf, then tucked the chair Sophie had used to retrieve it under the desk. By time he finished freshening himself up and made his way down the stairs, Abbie had the youngest two bundled up in their coats, snow boots, scarves, and hats. Grace and John were finishing bundling themselves up. Abbie looked up at Ichabod. “The cookies are cooling so the kids can decorate them later. Dress warm. We're going to be outside.”

As soon as he and Abbie were also bundled up, their little family made their way out of the house and clamoured into the family SUV. The route his wife took them on was lined with houses decorated for Christmas. All four of the children “oooh”ed and “ahhh”ed. Ichabod had to admit, still very much enjoyed the festive twinkling lights and the yearly battle two of the families down the street had over who had the best decorations.

Christmas had not been nearly so festive in his day. Oh there had been parties and gift giving aplenty but they had not the luxury or invention of fairy lights and carolling—which one of the local churches did in the park every year on Christmas Eve. 

They reached the end of a street and Abbie pulled the SUV to the side and waved for everyone to follow her as she got out. She scampered ahead eagerly whilst they all waddled along behind her. There were several footprints in the snow ranging from large to small along the path. Just ahead Ichabod could see several parents and children ducked behind bushes and peering over carefully to...

“Oh my G—” Grace started but Abbie clamped a hand over her mouth and put a finger to her lips.

“Shh, we're not supposed to be here,” Abbie whispered as they found a spot between two families.

Just beyond the bushes, in a little clearing, Daniel Reynolds and a few other FBI agents were helping small men and women with pointed ears load packages into a large red sack. Another rather tall and portly old man with a salt and pepper beard was looking over a list and checking things off as one of the small people identified the package. The bag was next to a large sleigh strapped to nine reindeer.

“We don't mind at all,” Daniel said to the man with the check list. “To be fair, we thought it was just a prank until we got here.”

“Understandable, may people don't believe I'm real these days,” the portly man replied. “I am just more concerned that I didn't receive an update about needing to alter my flight path because of the new cellular tower.”

“They finished it three months earlier than anticipated, otherwise I'm sure you would have been informed. The damage will be explained with wind damage,” Daniel commented.

“Naturally,” the man replied and let out a merry laugh. 

“I can't wait to tell Sarah that not only is Santa real but he's black,” Grace cackled quietly.

“No he's not,” one of the close by kids said. Ichabod looked over and, for the first time recognized that Agent Foster and her twins were next to them. “Santa is _obviously_ latino.”

Shortly Miss Jenny and her son, Joey and Big Ash were with them. “Both of you are blind. Santa is Shawnee,” Big Ash commented. Joey nodded in agreement.

“Did you tell everyone?” Ichabod asked Abbie.

“I took the call,” Agent Foster hissed. “Reynolds and I were the first ones on the case. I told Abbie and she obviously told you and Jenny.”

“Santa looks like a pretty faery,” John said with awe. “I knew it.”

“I have to agree with Grace,” Abbie stated. “Santa is definitely black.”

Irving looked puzzled for a moment. “You guys are crazy. Santa is one of the most racially ambiguous people I've ever seen. Actually, he looks kinda like he's from the Arabic regions, which makes more sense in the—”

Ichabod blinked in confusion. Each time someone had mentioned what they saw, the portly man had changed shape and colour. Even when John had mentioned a pretty faery, Santa had morphed into an elegant green skinned woman with long white hair, wearing heavy red and gold robes and a crown of mistletoe and candles on her head. “Perhaps Santa is a benevolent supernatural being which can alter their appearance to reflect whatever the person seeing them perceives as being Santa.”

“That is the most far fetched thing I have ever heard, Dad. What's Sophie doing?” Grace gawked.

Certainly enough, the youngest Crane child had slipped away and was stalking resolutely across the clearing to Santa. He looked down when Sophie tugged on his coat. Agent Reynolds looked ready to panic until Santa looked down and knelt down to Sophie's level.

“Well hello, Miss Sophie Crane,” Santa greeted, also using his hands to communicate with her. “I was wondering if any of you would come and say hello.”

Agent Reynolds sighed. “Foster. I thought I said not to tell anyone.”

Agent Foster stood and smoothed down her heavy coat. “Well, word got around the office anyway and no one could resist.”

Santa picked up Sophie and put her on his hip. “Everyone come on out,” he boasted happily. “I don't get to interact with humans as much as I used to. So, please, come.”

Ichabod was surprised to see that, not only had it been them, but several of the agents he recognized from the FBI office—the Ramirez family, the Cho's, the Shankar's, the Johnson's... 

Santa settled onto the side step of his sleigh and eased Sophie onto his lap. “I fully expect to find out what each and every one of you want for Christmas. Yes, even the grown ups.” Santa peered at Agent Reynolds. “That includes you too Daniel James Reynolds.” He put his attention on Sophie and, using both his hands and voice, he asked, “Now, Miss Sophie, what would you like for Christmas?”

Abbie's hands covered her mouth when Sophie removed her gloves and began giving Santa her response with a big grin on her face.

  
#  


Abbie scrolled through the various pics she had taken with Santa. Like most of the agents that had been there, she had taken a picture of everyone. She was surprised to see that Santa's appearance changed with each person. There had been white Santa's, black Santa's, Asian Santa's, Native American Santa's, and of course John's beautiful Santa. Sophie's had looked more like Krampus than Santa. There had been fat santa's and skinny santa's. Old and young. Jenny's santa had looked like Sheriff Corbin in a fake beard and wig—which had made Jenny burst into tears and then Abbie had cried when she had seen the result.

She scrolled back to Sophie's Santa and nudged Ichabod in the side and he jerked awake and held up the remote to turn off the television but then lowered it when he realized It's a Wonderful Life was still on. “Babe. Should we be worried that Sophie's Santa looks like Krampus?”

“Certainly not,” Ichabod replied, putting his arm around her shoulders. “You and I both know she cartwheels to the playlist of a different flute player.” Abbie looked up at him and he arched a brow. “I said what I said knowing full well what the saying is.”

Abbie nodded. “If I had saw something like that at her age I would have been terrified,” she said quietly. “But she walked right up to him and tugged on his coat like he was a normal person.”

“One of her many, many peculiar behaviours,” Ichabod murmured, huddling close to her side. “But it would also mean she will be more likely to keep calm in the face of danger, which is an admirable trait I believe she inherited from her mother.”

“Yeah but she better not start dragging home rogue demons to keep as pets,” Abbie commented with a chuckle. Of course in a little less than a year's time, their youngest would be the first to 'drag home' a demon pet but that was neither here nor there. “The last thing we need is Moloch on a leash or... I dunno, a banshee in a birdcage.”

“We would need to move to a countryside fortress should she bring home a dragon.”

Abbie looked around the living room. “I don't know... maybe with four kids we should debating moving anyway. Both Grace and Irving are getting older and bigger. Almost too big to be sharing a bedroom with their siblings.”

“Are you suggesting selling our lovely mid-Atlantic home?”

“No... no. Jenny would kill me if I did that. I was thinking let Jenny and Joey move in and we take our family somewhere a little bigger,” Abbie suggested. “I think it's what August would have wanted once I outgrew this old place.”

“The house across the street is for sale,” Ichabod pointed out. “It has five bedrooms instead of three. And, considering what happened there during the final tribulation, it's rather inexpensive.”

“Hmm,” Abbie hummed. “Positive: Inexpensive and plenty of bedrooms. Con: former owner was a witch that turned the cellar into a gate way to Hell.”

“I cannot fathom two people more qualified to deal any issues that may arise due to the cellar,” Ichabod commented.

Abbie nodded. “Consider it done. I'll put in an offer tomorrow. And if they say okay quick enough... maybe we can surprise the kids on Christmas by moving all the decorations from this house to that one while they're asleep.” She chuckled. “Can you imagine Irving's reaction to coming downstairs and seeing the Christmas tree and all the presents gone?”

“Considering the amount of time he spent trying to find the ideal positioning of the tree, I think he would be mortified.”

The two shared a sneaky grin then settled in on the sofa to finish their movie.


End file.
